


What The Journey Brings

by neverlowkey



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, First Meetings, Gen, Kima came to kick ass and take names, Mutual Pining, Other, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-17 16:30:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18102233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverlowkey/pseuds/neverlowkey
Summary: At the moment, their party is all brains no brawn, which is fine... until they’re suddenly trapped in a ruined library with a dozen reawakened golems. They then realize that their group needs brawlers, and a tavern seems to be a good place to find them. This is the story of how a group of adventurers became friends, and of how Kima and Allura became something more.*This will probably NOT be updated in a timely fashion. Just a heads up. I'll get to it eventually.





	What The Journey Brings

**Author's Note:**

> CW: This chapter contains violence! It's not extremely detailed, but there is mention of blood and a badly broken bone, so if you're squeamish maybe skip the end of the fight.

It was just past dusk when four tired, dirty, and bruised adventurers arrived at the Dancing Owlbear. The small inn and tavern was a popular watering hole for adventurers-for-hire passing through Vasselheim, though most of the bar’s current occupants looked less bedraggled than the group that had just entered. The group maneuvered their way through the crowd toward the bar and ordered a round.

“Guys, we really have to recruit some frontliners, ‘cause as of now, I’m the only one and I’m not even supposed to be in melee,” groaned a very bruised elf dressed in dark leathers. “Also, a healer would be great.”

Their dwarven companion knocked back his flagon of ale. “We’ve got a cleric already, Sirus.”

“Drake, I’m a damn knowledge cleric, not a medic,” snapped a bristling human with large spectacles.

“Plus I can’t fucking see in the damn dark like some of you assholes, so I’m fucking useless in a night fight!”

“Simmer down Ghenn, yer gonna wake every dog in Issylra if yer voice gets any higher. And anno yer not a medic, but it’d help if ya maybe prepared a healin’ spell or two? Ye brough’ ‘Detect Poison’ inta an ancient underground library, fer Moradin’s sake, an’ the rest of us cannae even use healin’ spells!”

The now-fuming human cleric was preparing a fierce retort when Allura intervened. “Alright, enough Drake. We’re all tired and sore, so let’s just rest up and worry about it tomorrow.”

“I agree,” the rogue added. “We should all just get shitfa-”

The sound of chairs scraping across the tavern floor interrupted Sirus. It was accompanied by the thud of tables being overturned as a burly, brass-scaled dragonborn stumbled backward. The group of adventurers instinctively took to their feet in anticipation of having to defend themselves. Patrons quickly stepped aside as a seething brown-skinned halfling in battered plate mail advanced on the dragonborn.

“YOU WANNA SAY THAT AGAIN, YOU OVERSIZED DOOR KNOB!?” shouted the halfling woman.

The dragonborn growled at the halfling, but before he could lunge at her, the tiefling behind the bar interjected; their voice echoed magically through the tavern.

“Hey, if you’re gonna fight, take it outside! I’m not replacing any more busted chairs!” they announced.

The halfling grunted in assent. She clomped toward the tavern door, hardly missing a step as she picked up her mostly full tankard of ale and chugged it in one swift motion. She slammed the now empty tankard down on a table as she left. The brass dragonborn snarled after her, quickly downing his drink and following after the halfling.

The group of adventurers watched all of this transpire with varying levels of curiosity. Ghenn was the first to speak as the atmosphere in the tavern returned to its usual jovial state.

“Hey guys, I think we need one of her in our party,” remarked the human cleric.

“Yeh know, laddie,” Drake added, “I think yer onta somethin’ there. We’d better get after her, then.”

The group quickly gathered their things and set off after the feisty, armoured halfling. After a minute or two of looking around for their target, Sirus and Ghenn found the halflings footprints leading away from the bustling tavern. They followed the tracks through the dirt streets, moving swiftly to catch up. Just before they turned down an alleyway, Sirus silently stopped them in their tracks. As they froze, they recognized the angry voices in the alleyway.

“You really think you’re hot shit, don’t you?” the brass dragonborn from the tavern sneered.

From a little further up the alley, the halfling retorted, “Praxis, please, just go fuck yourself. I’ve had a long fucking day and I don’t have the patience to deal with your inferiority complex right now. Don’t make me beat some sense into you.”

“I’d like to see you try, knee-high! Just because you’re the Highbearer’s favorite doesn’t mean you could take a real warrior. Besides, I’d hate to bring you to your knees. You’d be too short to suck my cock,” Praxis jeered.

“Believe me Praxis, if I were lookin’ for a real fight, I wouldn’t find one with you,” she snarled, “but I’d be happy to give you a demonstration.” The halfling palmed the handle of the warhammer slung across her back.

“Heh, you might be able to take me, if you got real lucky,” chuckled the dragonborn, “but you’re luck’s just run out.” The adventurers watched as three figures emerged from the shadows at the other end of the alleyway, trapping the halfling between them and Praxis. In the dim moonlight of the alley, the halfling looked nervous for the first time.

Just as she readied her warhammer, Drake shouted “Oi!” and two arrows flew past his shoulder and sunk into the thigh and shoulder of one of the thugs. He cried out in agony and collapsed to the ground, cradling his wounded leg with his good arm. The rest of Praxis’s cronies looked over just in time to see Sirus disappear once more into shadow. The dragonborn wheeled around, summoning a mouth full of fire, but suddenly froze, looking like someone caught in the middle of holding back a sneeze. Allura’s incantation finished, she stepped back as Drake leapt in front of her and hurled a crackling lance of lightning at the now Held dragonborn. It struck him squarely in the chest before arcing over to his remaining henchmen. One immediately crumpled to the ground, the other dodging the brunt of the bolt but staggering heavily as the residual electricity arced through him.

The halfling seemed to shake off her initial surprise at the precipitous arrival of her new allies. She rounded on the paralyzed Praxis, his expression shifting rapidly from shock to outright terror as she strolled into his eyeline.

“Because I’m such a merciful person, I won’t kill you Praxis. Next time, you won’t be so lucky,” she hissed. In the blink of an eye, the halfling woman reared back and, with a strength belied by her small stature, swung her warhammer into the side of Praxis’s knee. It impacted with a sickening crunch, and unable to speak, Praxis gave a muffled scream through clenched teeth. He toppled to the ground as blood gushed from a gash in his thigh where shattered bone was protruding from the skin. Allura released her Hold on him as he fell. He rolled on the ground, emitting pitiful moans of excruciating pain, tears streaming down his cheeks. The halfling quickly jogged over to the two thugs that had collapsed and placed a hand on each of them. She muttered a quiet prayer and a soft, golden light radiated from her hands. The lightning burns on one retracted slightly and the flow of blood from the others arrow wounds stopped. She knelt beside the human pincushion and, with firm but careful hands, removed the arrows lodged in his shoulder and thigh and sealed the wounds with another surge of divine healing energy.

The third thug, who unlike his comrades had remained conscious, cowered against the stone wall of the alleyway looking utterly terrified. The halfling glanced over to him with a cool “you’ll be fine” expression. She then turned her attention to Praxis, who was still sobbing quietly, cradling his mangled knee. With a grimace that narrowly skirted eye-rolling, she walked over to tend to Praxis’s wounds. His breathing became frantic as she approached, and his eyes darted about looking for some escape.

Finding none, he whimpered, “P-please, Kima, I’m-I’m sorry! Please, don’t hurt me!”

“Shut up Praxis,” she deadpanned. “I’m gonna make sure you don’t bleed out in a fucking alley. Now bite down on a stick or something; this is gonna hurt.”

In a remarkably efficient sequence, Kima realigned the broken bones, staunched the bleeding, set the leg with a couple of wood planks and a few strips of Praxis’s tunic, and dumped the remainder of her Lay On Hands into him. When she was finished, she looked back to thug number three, who was still balled up in a near-fetal position against the wall with his knees clutched to his chest and a sickly greenish pallor coloring his normally-greyish face.

“Hey, catatonic guy, can you make sure these assholes get to a cleric? I mostly do triage.” The stricken half-drow’s eyes snapped to Kima’s and he nodded vigorously. She gave a grunt of acknowledgement as she turned to the group of adventurers.  
“Thanks for the backup. Do I know you guys or something?” Kima asked.

Drake stepped forward and spoke up, “Nae yet lassie, but we saw ye skelp that shiny dobber at the Owlbear an’ witya did jus’ now was pure metal!”

The halfling cracked a crooked grin. “Thanks, I think? I’m Kima, by the way. And, uhh, who are you guys?”

The burly dwarf cleric reached out his hand. “Evoker Drake Thunderbrand of Kraghammer, at yer service,” he announced. Kima grasped his wrist and shook it.

“I am Researcher Ghenn Geary, Order of Oghma,” the mousy, bespectacled human declared in a shrill tone.

“And I’m Sirus, Master Sneak and Chief of Stabs” the rogue deadpanned. Ghenn’s eyes narrowed as Drake and Kima snorted. “What!? Not everyone needs a grandiose title,” Sirus gibed.

The final member of their party was a tall, beautiful human woman with long golden braids that trailed down the front of her cobalt robes. She blushed as she offered Kima her hand.

“Abjurist Allura Vysoren. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Kima felt heat rush to her cheeks as she took the abjurist’s hand. The halfling cleared her suddenly dry throat. “Uhm, yeah, you too,” Kima stammered, holding onto her hand for a moment longer than necessary. Allura returned her shy smile.

Sirus raised an eyebrow and shared a surreptitious look with Drake. “Well, why don’ we head back to the pub for a pint?”

The group chatted as they walked to the closest tavern that hadn’t already kicked them out that night. They ended up in a quiet inn and tavern called The Wanderer’s Welcome. The common room was warmly lit by oil lamps and a crackling fireplace. They sat down and were brought mugs of ale by a gnomish waitress.

“So Kima, what’s your story?” wondered Ghenn.

“What d’ya mean?”

“Well, yeh sure know how to handle yerself in a scrap,” Drake noted.

“Oh, right, yeah. I’m, uh, training to be a paladin of Bahamut. I’m pretty good with a warhammer. I can do a couple of spells and stuff, too.”

“You can heal people, right?” Ghenn squeaked.

“Yeah, a bit. I’m not really an expert or anything, but in a pinch, yeah.”

“Holy sh-I mean Oghma, we need her with us. She hammers and heals!”

“What, is this a job interview or something?” Kima guessed.

Ghenn grimaced and looked abashedly to Drake. “More of an invitation,” Drake replied diplomatically, “if yer interested. Our wee band here is lookin’ fer more members of a… martial peruassion. Allura, Ghenn an’ I are well good mages, but Sirus ‘ere is our only wallaper. An’ we could do with another healer, if I’m honest. Ghenn’s more of an academic.”

“So, you want me to join your group?” she asked skeptically. Ghenn nodded enthusiastically, causing his glasses to slip off one ear and hang haphazardly across his face. Sirus snorted at Ghenn’s antics. Kima’s crooked grin made Allura’s heart flutter strangely.

“Man, I’d love to, but I have to finish my training at the Platinum Sanctuary.” Kima added dolefully, “It’s... it’s just something I have to do.”

“Well if yeh change yer mind lassie, we’ll be here fer another week or two before we head out. Yeh can send us a message or come by if yeh want.” Drake gulped down the last of his ale and stood. “Well, I’m knackered. Think I’ll get ta’ kip. G’night.” He ambled toward the staircase that led to the rooms above the tavern.

Kima said goodbye to the rest of them and excused herself. As she opened the door she took one last look at the motley gang of new friends. Her gaze met that of the bewitching wizard, who flushed and quickly tore her gaze away before hurrying towards the stairs. Kima spent the walk back to the Platinum Sanctuary pondering the wizard’s odd behavior and imagining running her fingers through those long blond locks.

~~~~~~~~

Allura rushed to her room as quickly as was possible without it appearing suspicious. Once safely sequestered in her private room, she breathed a heavy sigh of exhaustion and flopped gracelessly down on the bed. Acting elegant and dignified all the time was hard work. A task, it seemed, that was inexplicably more difficult in the presence of their newest acquaintance. She couldn’t even begin to fathom why the halfling evoked such absurd responses from her. She was certain it was irrational; there was no reason to act any differently around her. It was just－

A knock on her door shook Allura from her reverie. She got up and opened the door to find Sirus leaning against the door frame. “Hey, Allura. Can I come in?” he inquired cheerily.

“Of course.”

“Thanks.” Sirus skipped into the room and, in a superfluous display of acrobatics, launched himself from a handstand and nonchalantly landed cross-legged on the bed. Allura rolled her eyes and went to join him. Sirus pulled out a deck of playing cards and shuffled them. “So, whatcha think of that little paladin? She seems like a real firecracker.”

“I suppose,” she remarked neutrally, fighting back the sudden blush that threatened to color her cheeks. “We could certainly use someone with her skillset.”

Sirus dealt two hands and placed the draw stack between them on the mattress. “Gods, yes. I think I have four separate layers of bruises stacked on top of each other. My ribs look like a horse tap-danced on them.”

Allura grimaced in sympathy. The long bruise one golem had left between her shoulder blades still ached when she moved. Sirus put down two cards and drew two more from the pile, watching Allura intently. Her expression revealed nothing of her feelings.

They played a few more rounds before Sirus gave up and went to bed. 

That night, Allura dreamed of scuffed steel and crooked smiles. Across town, in a small, sparsely furnished bedroom in the Platinum Sanctuary, Kima dreamed of golden strands on a cobalt sea.


End file.
